Blows
Disclaimer: yeah, because if I owned Star Trek, this is how I'd use it. Not mine; it all belongs to some big wigs from Hollywood. And possibly J.J. Abrams.
Rating: PG-13
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The adrenaline of his fight with the Klingons is nothing compared to the hope and relief washing over him in thick waves. They are alive. Against all odds and everything he has observed of Admiral Marcus and Section 31, his family is alive. Alive only to be used to murder him, in order to cover up for the sins of the head of Starfleet. At least, in his century the victors in the final war against him and his people had bothered with a summary judgement before condemning them all to die for faults both real and made-up. But by then he was already commandeering the Botany Bay so they could make their escape to the void of space. At least, it would be far away from the race that created them as weapons of war and foolishly did not expect them to rebel or realize how easily they could just take over. However, the long hand of humanity reached them even outside the Sol system, making sure that they would never be truly free of it.
Khan's family is indeed still alive, but trapped in cryo-sleep, even the augments are fragile. The acting captain of the Enterprise could dispense of them with a single order, just as he has threatened to in his message. So Khan surrenders, discarding the rifle he does not really need to fend for himself. One of the men from the Federation's flagship staggers to his feet to accept his capitulation. Khan hears him refer to a friend in his speech and it occurs to him that the officer, perhaps the actual captain of the vessel sent to kill him, has a personal stake in this and maybe instead of being in cahoots with Marcus, he is simply being used by his superior. This gives the augments an unexpected opening, as a plan begins to form in his mind.
Then the first blow comes. Short and brutal. It does not hurt. Not much, anyway. Nor does it have the potential to do real damage. Besides, Khan saw it coming and could have intercepted it, should he have wanted to. But defending himself is not an option. These people hold the lives of his crew in their hands. He does not have the luxury of resisting the raining blows and further provoking the rage he notices on the young officer's face. Young, therefore inexperienced, visibly angry and in pain. Khan remembers him from the attack on Starfleet HQ and starts to construct a portrait of the man in his head. Beneath all that wrath, there must be a conscience buried in there somewhere. If it weren't, Khan would already be dead. It is a vulnerable thread, on which the safety of his family hangs, but it is all Khan has right now. And for them he would let the man before him beat him to a bloody pulp or torture him within an inch of his life, because as long as he is preoccupied with Khan himself, those precious seventy-two torpedoes stay intact on the Enterprise. Each new blow to Khan's body means that remains unchanged for a second longer.
"Captain!"
The woman's concerned cry startles him and Khan spares her a glance from the corner of his eye. She looks distressed by the captain's outburst of violence. So they care for each other, a conclusion reinforced by the immediate cessation of the beating. The augment makes a note of this new tactical advantage before bowing his head in mock deference.
"Captain," Khan whispers in both acknowledgement and disdain. It is imperative that he keeps the man's fury focused on him.
~ the end ~